There is a very large women’s triathlon happening in our neighborhood right now, well, it is happening all over, but the start and/or finish is at the park down the street. I am going to set out 18 or so chairs on the sidewalk and see any of them find new homes. What else would they want to do after running/swimming/biking to near-vomit extremes than load a bunch of chairs into their Subaru wagon? It’s not a stereotype if it’s true. Our street is presently clogged with Outbacks.
This week, the Yahoo! Weather app told me I lived in the Lakewood/Seward Park neighborhood when I was in the living room and in Columbia City when I was in the kitchen.
This week, I somehow broke my phone.
This week, I walked home from work once (Friday). It is about six miles, I listened to Radiolab, and cleared my head from the week.
This week, I discovered the difference between the train that I take daily and the bus that I have never taken, but goes to the exact same place. I have always figured it would be the same, mostly. I catch the train at the Columbia City Station (.9 miles from my doorstep), while the bus stop is probably half that distance. The train takes 15 minutes and it’s patrons are polite Kindle-reading quiet people drinking their coffee from re-purposed spaghetti sauce jars. The bus takes 30 minutes, stops every other block, and is packed ass-to-forehead with lunatics. The woman sitting next to me was eating soup. The bus also costs 25 cents more. I have made my decision.
This week, I called in sick. Our sick days and personal days do not roll over. Enough said.
This week, I unpacked the last box. Well, I still have a box or two, but the contents do not have a home until we find some sort of bedside table or small chest. In related news, I am using two complete sets of vintage encyclopedias as a bedside table.
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